I Remember Mama

Thursday

Yesterday was a tough day.

Last night was agonizing.
I couldn’t imagine facing a day of my life without her . . .
or a day without sobbing.
This evening was sad – seeing her, my Mama – lifeless and still. I closed my eyes and remembered her in the kitchen, making her yellow rolls; I remembered her tucking me into bed at night; and I remembered her dancing down “Main Street” in Disney World! Then I opened my eyes and looked around the room in this funeral home, a place I didn’t want to be, facing what I didn’t want to face, in a room where earlier, alone, I couldn’t stop crying.
Now the room had taken on a different countenance. Instead of the parlor of death, it had become a playroom, filled with my little grandchildren. Their voices, full of animation, and their healthy little bodies, full of life, made me realize that Mama lives on in me, in my children, and in my grandchildren. As I reflected upon it, I realized that life is truly amazing. My friend, Connie, told me that today. “Life is amazing,” she said, “and we are a part of it.”
And I am a part of it because of my precious Mama. And now I pass on the tradition of baking the yellow rolls and I will tuck my little ones into bed, and I will dance on “Main Street.”
Tomorrow I must say goodbye – I know it’s just her body – that her soul is in heaven and that she will receive a new, vibrant, healthy body, but it’s her old body and her touch and her voice that I will miss. It’s the smell of Ponds Cold Cream and the yellow rolls baking in her oven.